


Singularity

by grey_orchids



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Loss of Virginity, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 11:35:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3118646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey_orchids/pseuds/grey_orchids
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missing scene (AU) during Alone. Beth's POV. If Beth and Daryl hadn't been separated when they did, and continued to look for the others. Singularity: An area wherein space and time are infinitely distorted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Singularity

**Author's Note:**

> No beta :)

From the moment _'oh'_ settled around me, I felt the nerves in my body crack and the air in my lungs disappear into the walls. It was as if a black hole in my mind had reversed, and all the moments, information and truth inside of it was suddenly available to me. _Oh_.

I never had a chance to respond before I could see Daryl get up to the door, ‘ _stupid dog’_ , and suddenly the place was overrun with walkers. I could barely hear him telling me to run over the noise in my head, but I made it out and hoped for the shape of his bow to emerge from the house. It took a painstakingly long time, but when he ran out – calling out for me – I knew we could make it. We took off into the forest, hearts pounding as we fled the driveway of our temporary sanctuary. My injured foot burned with every step. The sky was black and Daryl grabbed my arm, running as fast as he could, and all but dragging me along side him.

My arm ached for a couple of days after that, although I didn’t notice. Or if I did notice, I didn’t mind.

+ 

I don't know how long it's been since we left the prison. Not really, but it's been long enough to share stories and stare at the stars.  I wished on every single one of them that we would find them. That I would find Maggie. It hurt, but all I could do was keep moving.

Slowly, or maybe not slowly at all, I noticed something.

We would fall asleep next to each other until we fell asleep with each other. He was always alert. He'd throw his legs over my sleeping form and wait. Or I would fall asleep against his chest, his bow around me, ready to shoot. He protects me so savagely that I reach for him without thinking, look for his eyes without trying. Survival is such a primal and encompassing thing that it nearly blocks everything else out. Nearly.

So much of our time would be like anyone else’s. Hunting, running, searching. And then there would be these occasional pockets in time where it was like the rules didn’t apply. I would lean against his shoulder and we would talk about whatever random thing we wanted to. When it happened it didn’t matter what we said, or how close we sat to each other. In the aftermath of those suspended moments, he could withdraw with equal commitment. For every embrace there seemed to be a counterbalance of distance. I realized fairly quickly that I missed his closeness when it disappeared.

Sometimes he will wait an agonizingly long time to touch me. Days. Like he no longer thinks he can. No guiding hand, no graze of fingers. Other times he will find any excuse, holds a bit too tight, grabs with too much force; like if he doesn't I'll float away. No matter how long the time in between, I never remain untouched for long.

His lips to my forehead was the most decisive thing he allowed himself to do at first. It happened innocently after getting separated in a walker hoard. I was fine, holding my own. Until I wasn't. And when the arrow came through the snapping skull above me, it I pushed the lifeless weight off of my body and ran in his direction. His hands held me close against him, his relieved lips sealing our fate against my head. After that moment it was something that just happened sometimes. Each time I would feel a crippling bolt of fear and heat. It would barrel through me so fast I would only realize much later how long I was frozen in place.

Daryl was in every way reactive. He responds to my every word, my every movement. Even when he thinks he doesn't. He will stare off away from me, his voice on the wind; but I can see his face split into a smile from behind.

It reminds me of something I learned in school. There's this stuff in the universe called dark matter, which is invisible, but we know it's there because of the gravitational effects it has on the things around it. Try as he might, he can't escape me, even when he doesn't see me coming.

+

The first real kiss happened in a rainstorm.

We ran across a field until we realized there was nothing to run from anymore. We stopped in the soaking grass.

 _"I needed a shower anyways."_ He kicked off his shoes and thunder and raindrops muted my laughter. I joined him, and we walked slowly over the hills. When we hit the tree line it was almost deafeningly quiet. The trees displaced the sound so much that I could hear myself breathe. 

I walked ahead until I felt his hand reach my arm, pulling me into him. His mouth was hot against mine. It was a long time coming, and I arched up to meet his lips with my own. A tangled weight, his arm pulled me so tightly against him I thought we might fuse. With a demanding mouth, my body curved into him effortlessly. When I felt him press into me I froze, bracing my hands against his chest.

 _"Wait."_ I didn't recognize my voice. He pulls back abruptly and I nearly fall to the ground; my legs shake and my lungs burn.

_"Daryl-"_

_"Shit."_ He says it like an apology and runs his hand through his hair.

He looks up and begins to explain, _"I'd never-"_

 _"I know."_ I say, and try to still my heart.

 

That feels like a lifetime ago, although I am sure it couldn't be more than a handful of weeks. It was barely a day after that he pulled me into him as we drifted off to sleep, bodies flush and mouths open. 

I want to tell him I'm scared too, but the idea is too terrifying to imagine. Under the blackout of night, he seems to forget his reservations. Nights pass, and his hands pull me closer and closer to him – not out of protection, but of something else. Only when it is too dark to read the expression on his face will he press against me, mouths circling. It is completely maddening.

It's been a few days since I've felt even a directing hand on my back, but it doesn't worry me. In fact, it probably means he will compensate for it at any minute. I think about it because there's hardly anything more interesting to think about than the way his body feels molded against my own.

When he finally lets his lips slide over mine again, the sky is dark and I can see every star from beneath my eyelids. His hands are restless on me, and when his mouth ghosts over my neck I gasp for air into the darkness. He tries to restrain himself. I don't know how to express what I want until his hips press into me; hands in my hair, and his lips on mine. I _want_ him.

He stops himself every time. Stops me. He braces himself above me or rolls over and I ache, like a fish out of water. Restless and weighted. Sometimes he will reach for my hand, my heart pounding in my chest. It makes for more than a few sleepless nights.

+

I can tell he's frustrated. He navigates with jerking movements and is too rough with everything he touches. He breaks through trees with his hands instead of his bow and his eyes are a lust-shame fight to the death. Each day a different combination wins. 

The only consistency is his eventual restraint.

He'll talk to me about anything but me. I was happy to let it go for a while; scared of what he'd say. Scared of what he wouldn't. But I'm frustrated too. Every time he lifts himself away from me it's ice through my veins. It physically hurts. I want his arms around me to be enough. It's not, and it's not enough for him either.

+

Tonight I fall asleep alone.

I wake up to his arms encircling me. A hand finds it's way into my hair, and his lips are on me so fast and hard that I struggle to breathe.

This time I want it to be different. I need it to be different. 

My hands grip whatever they find - leather and skin. As if they could somehow anchor him to me. 

His mouth opens against mine and I feel his body react. It causes my breath to hitch; a small noise escapes my lips. He stills above me. I wish I could just kept my mouth shut. 

I bring my hands to his face.

"Why do you always stop?" I try to read him in the rapidly fading light. His brows crease, and he drops his eyes. I'll never understand how he doesn't notice that my body is on fire.

He is braced above me and swears under his breath.

"I can't control myself." His voice cuts through me.

"I don't want you to." I'm not sure I believe it as I say it. My nerves dance and I'm more afraid of his response than any snapping walker-jaw. 

He laughs without humour, "Yes, you do."

I consider his words for a flash.

"Since when do I ever do something I don't want to do?" His eyes avoid mine and he breathes deeply.

"Ain't that the truth." He smiles lightly and I feel a wave of euphoria having gotten this far with him.

"Do you need to hear me say it?"

"Say what?" He bluffs. I pause as my breath catches in my throat. It's harder to express than I would have thought.

"I...I want this. I want you." His eyes lock into mine. and I can see it's not what he expected to hear. His silence is unbearable.

I can feel his heart beating furiously against his chest. His faces is twisted in thought, and I want to erase the pain etched into his skin.

I lift myself up enough to catch his mouth with my own. He is still, but doesn't bolt away from me. My lips pressing into his, I can feel him respond, despite himself. The heat within me spreads out to my fingertips - his grip on my hand tightens, and I can feel his mouth open above mine. 

He shifts, and I feel my head touch the ground under the weight of his lips. I can feel the delirium take hold as his leg settles between mine. His body rocks against mine just so, and l gasp lightly. He doesn't stop, and his mouth finds my neck, hands in my hair.

My eyes close, and I can feel him against me. It sends light through my veins. My hands slide down to his hips, his belt the only thing to catch my restlessness. With his mouth hot against my ear, I shiver beneath him. I'm too afraid to open my eyes, but I can feel him smile against me.

My body arches, and a sigh escapes me. His mouth comes back to mine with ferocity. He pulls at the fabric around me until his hand slides over me, catching on the edge of my bra.

I run my hands up his chest, hoping that it's enough of a wordless permission. He presses against me, and pulls my shirt over my head. I'm out of breath and break away from his unrelenting kiss long enough to catch a glimpse of his eyes raking over me like a kid on Christmas morning.

His fingers dip underneath my bra strap. Without hesitation it snaps open around me. His fingers drag the faded blue garment away and his mouth finds a new home on my ribs below the curve of my breast. His tongue against my skin burns.

I feel self-conscious. It isn't just the most exposed I've been in front of _him_ , it's the most I've _ever_ been exposed. My gut reaction is to cover myself, and it happens faster than I can stop it. He slows his movement and lifts his head.

I can feel his eyes search me as he lifts himself up.

"I know that look." He speaks softly and I open my mouth to explain - I stop when I see his hands pull off his shirt.

"Daryl-" As his shirt falls to the floor he turns away from me. That's when I see it. Scars.

I sit up slowly.

When I say his name again I can't hear it over the blood rushing through my ears.  My hand shakes as I reach for his back. Anticipating my touch, he still flinches when my fingers touch his skin.

It's something I think I knew, maybe even caught a glimpse of. It's not the same as seeing it now, because now he wanted me to see it. I trace an angry red line and kiss the space where it begins to mar his flesh.

I feel him exhale.

He turns to me, his hair falling over his face as he moves. As he runs his hands trough it, I can see the uncertainty in his movement. I remove my hands from my chest and reach for him.

He moves in to claim my mouth, and in seconds his lightweight lips have resumed their fury over me. I can feel everything. The scruff of his face against my skin, his lips - impossibly hot on my boiling skin.

His hands are rough but his handling is soft. He runs his fingers up from my hip, my breast the perfect fit for the tentative pressure of his hand. I can hear a guttural sound escape him, and it shoots straight through me. My chest claims his attention - his mouth and fingers surveying my flesh, it's almost too much.

My breath catches as he nips gently at me, and I gasp at the more decisive sink of teeth into my flesh. I grip him, aching for more. Any thought I had about breaking off more than I could chew dissolves fantastically.

As he moves up to find my lips, I can feel him between my legs and it's almost shocking how incredible it feels. Like a live wire. Unimaginable heat and desire fills me, and I can hear a sound escape my throat as my head rolls back. As he moves against me once, twice - the friction is unbearable.

He lifts himself off of me, and the lack of contact burns. I feel a hand at the button of my jeans and I freeze. It's what I want, and I'm terrified that I want it. He moves his hand to my face, and feel his lips against my ear.

"I won't do a damn thing until you want me to." Hands to the side of my head, he kisses me. His tongue against mine makes me feel dizzy even though I'm lying down. He gently rests his hips against me and with smallest movement I moan into his mouth.

I grip his arms and try to see through the spinning vertigo. He nips at my ear and I feel my whole body snap like a rubber band.   

It isn't enough. It's been who-knows how long since he first started standing too close, and even longer since I couldn't wait for him to stand too close.  My hands between us, I unbutton my jeans. His hand takes mine, fingers sliding in between my own before pressing into my hair and finally the ground beneath us.

As he adjusts himself above me, my heart is my throat. He hesitates when his hand falls on my zipper, so I decide to help. I let the zipper unhook slowly and roll my hips out of the blue-fabric prison. He doesn't move, he just watches. 

In nothing but my underwear, I chance a look up at him and pray for my blood to cool. He runs his hand along the stitching at the top of the only thing separating him from my naked body, ghosting over my skin. I hold my breath as he moves his fingers over every seam. Every seam.

The fear and anticipation is a dangerous cocktail for my heart that I fear will explode any second. I sigh at the touch of his fingers, outlining my very center. When he reaches for his belt the air stills. The clashing of metal is impossibly loud, and I feel every clang as the unclasped pieces fall to his thighs. When he reaches his zipper I can hear his silent words; last chance to stop me.

I tug gently on his pants, hoping my smile projects a comfort I half-feel. It takes a second, but when his lips mirror my own, I relax. He pulls at his pants, boxers with it, and I don't know where to rest my eyes. I've never seen...anyone naked like this. I can hear him laugh softly above me.

"It's a little late to be modest for my sake." He speaks against my lips and takes hold of my wrist, bringing it to his chest. He doesn't say another word, but I know it's an invitation to explore. My curious hands run down his sides, as his mouth finds a million places to be. I don't know what to expect and I don't know how to make him feel like I feel.

When I find my way to his stomach, every nerve inside me is at attention. Without another thought to delay me, I find his base, and shakily run my hand up his length. His body jolts and I can hear him swear from surprise.

It's unimaginable.

He's so hard and so warm. I have no idea what I'm doing. He kisses me with more force than before, his hand at my hip. As my lips open, his hand balls the fabric of my underwear and pulls at it without direction.

Releasing him, I hook my fingers into the fabric. As I begin to pull it down, he takes over, the garment at my ankles before I can blink. As he stretches over my arching body, I can feel him against me. It alights incredible heat throughout my limbs. He braces his hand near my face - his eyes meet mine.

He presses against me and I brace myself against him reactively. I can feel him shake his head.

"Don't." It's all he says but I know what he means. I fight my instincts and try to breathe beneath him. When I feel the pressure again I try to relax. He kisses my forehead, my cheek, my lips. He presses into me, and it takes my breath away. It seems endless; the way he moves so slowly, filling me. When I feel his hips against me, he stills - gives me time to adjust. It's more foreign than painful. It's sensational. It fills me in such a way that eases the very fiery ache it creates. I drag in air as my hands squeeze whatever of his flesh is in my reach. His face moves against mine, and I turn to kiss him. 

He slowly moves against me. He pulls out only slightly before filling me again and I hear him swear over my inability to pull enough air into my lungs. It's like being hit in the head with a shovel. I can't see straight and I what I can see is a swirl of colour and stars.

He begins a slow rhythm. His scent overwhelms me. His hands are so restless, twisted in my hair or gripping my hips. His body against mine is delightfully unbearable. I want everything. I loosely wrap my legs around him, and his reaction is immediate. His pace quickens, and he kisses me more urgently than ever before - our teeth clashing against each other. He's rough; not out of aggression but out of desperation.

The deeper he is, the deeper I want him to be. I slide my hands around him, lightly pulling him towards me with every thrust until he abandons whatever attempt he made to go easy on me.

It becomes so fast and forceful that I can feel my whole body jerk with every thrust. My head arches back as I moan into nothingness. His every reaction seems linked to my efforts to be closer to him. His eyes are heavy when I catch them on me. He palms my face, directing my mouth to his own, his hand sliding down my neck, not losing grip. It feels like a part of me i didn't know was missing has reclaimed me. 

I can hear my name on his lips and I hook my legs behind his back, as tight as I can under the weight of his body. His rhythm intensifies, and I cry out from the friction. The hand in my hair tightens, and I can feel him finish deep inside me, the sound of pure ecstasy ringing in my ears. His lips brush mine in an electric movement. I see light dancing from beneath my eyelids. 

His grip doesn't loosen immediately. We lay entwined, our ragged breathing slowing; hearts belting out staggered beats. My skin hums and my body shakes. I realize minutes later that my grip hasn't lessened. I gently release him; my fingers, arms, legs, aching. 

When he moves, he kisses me lightly, grabbing my hand in his as he rolls beside me. Our fingers lock, lips separating, and I clear my throat. When I speak, it sounds like I've ran a marathon.

"Does it always feel like that?"

He looks stricken as he shakes his head, "No."

From where I'm laying, there is a bright and thick blanket of stars that cover me. Daryl's face is the most content I've ever seen it.

"I hope I never have to know any different." My eyes are closed but I feel his grip on my hand tighten.

When he speaks it sounds like a secret I only happen to overhear, "I'll do everything I can to make sure you don't."


End file.
